


My Wayward Brother

by writing1swat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Dean, Caretaker Sam, Caretaking, Hurt Dean, M/M, Mute Dean, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing1swat/pseuds/writing1swat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>response to this prompt: <strong>http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/80640.html?thread=30023680#t30023680</strong></p><p>Alt end to 'Devil's Trap'. Two years ago, Azazel hijacked Dean's body and took off. Sam has been searching for his brother ever since. Now in a motel in Florida, he finds a naked man slumped against his door...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a response to this prompt: **http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/80640.html?thread=30023680#t30023680** but it's slowly developed to more of a **caretaker**!Sam/ **broken**!Dean story.

It’s raining. Heavy pour and loud thunder and flashing lightning. Sam is sitting in a dark motel room, eyes fixated on the light screen of his laptop. The pitter patter of the rain hitting the window outside almost matches in rhythm to the click clack of the keyboard. There’s a half empty mug of coffee sitting beside him. The clock to his left reads a quarter to two in the morning. 

It’s May 2008. Two years ago, Dean Winchester disappeared from Sam’s life. Sam remembers that day very well. It’s ingrained into his memory, in his dreams, every time he so much as closes his eyes. He sees his brother. Trapped in the influence of Azazel, scared out of his mind, and powerless. To do anything. He remembers screaming and pain and smoke. He remembers his brother’s eyes, wide and fearful and a brilliant green, even in the dark.

Sam hasn’t stopped searching and he’s sure he never will, not until he finds Dean again or dies in the process. John on the other hand has completely dropped contact. He blames himself for what happened to Dean. Somewhere out there Sam imagines John chasing after dead ends and leads in the hopes of finding the demon and making it pay. For Mary. For Jess. Now Dean is on that list. Sam suspects he’s just a coward because he left the actual searching to Sam.

A particularly loud crackling thunder makes Sam almost jump in his chair. It almost drowns out the knock on the door. Sam stands, alert and already looking for his gun. When he checked into this motel, he made sure that it was nearly empty, one or two other occupants in the room across from him and the motel manager himself. No one knows Sam is staying here or that he’s in Florida. Not on the Hunter side at least.

He moves as quietly as he can and finds his gun lying under the pillow and takes a bottle of water with him. He puts a pack of salt in his pocket for good measure. Sam walks slowly to the door and stands there, listening. He can hear the rain hitting the roof, the crackles of thunder overhead, his own breathing. He can’t hear anything on the other side.

Sam is about to leave his post at the door when there’s a light tap. He strains his ear and thinks he can hear breathing. It isn’t his. Sam tenses for a moment. He takes a breath, lets it out and opens the door a crack. He catches sight of bare skin. The hallway light makes it look golden tan. Sam’s breath catches in his throat and he lets the door open wider.

A naked man falls into the threshold of his room. Sam stares.

Sam isn’t sure what to do. His heart is jackhammering inside his chest. He peers out to see if the hallway is empty. It is. He looks down at the man at his feet. He’s got long brown hair, almost similar to Sam’s own. Sam can’t help but think the hair color is the same as Dean’s, just slightly darker. When Sam bends down to look closer at the man’s face, he sees light sprinkling of freckles. But that’s as far to his brother the man gets.

He’s far too skinny to be Dean. And he’s naked. Sam thinks to himself, ‘ _This isn’t Dean_.’ Because to Sam his brother is an unmovable force of nature. There are deep bruises on the man’s arms and legs and stomach. There’s also a dark mark around his neck, like he had been wearing something there for a long time. The more he stares down at the man and wonders how he got to the state he did, the more he wants to heave. Sam looks out again to make sure there’s no one in the hall. Then he bends down and takes the man by his arms, careful not to bruise him further, he proceeds to drag him inside.

Sam lifts the man to lay on the bed. He covers him with the blanket and debates on what to do next. He finds his hand hovering just inside his pocket where his cell phone is safely tucked. He should call in an emergency because whoever this guy (who is not Dean) is needs help.

Sam looks to the bed again where the strange man is slumbering. He’s knocked out cold, Sam’s sure. Sam goes to take a closer look and examines the man’s injuries with a professional eye. Other than bruises and marks that look like they’ve been made a while ago, there’s nothing, as far as Sam can tell, that are life-threatening.

Sam fishes out his cell phone. He looks down at it and wonders why he doesn’t just hit the speed dial and ship this guy away, out of Sam’s life. After all, Sam has more important things to focus on. Like finding Dean.

Sam closes his phone and drops it back into his pocket. He looks back at the man on the bed. He thinks again, ‘ _This isn’t Dean_.’ A smaller part of him that still naively believes and hopes, the part that Sam desperately wishes he can squash but knows he can’t, quips back, ‘ _Who are you really trying to fool with that?_ ’

Sam makes a makeshift bed on the floor beside the bed with an extra blanket and pillow from the room’s closet and closes his eyes. He thinks tomorrow morning he’ll make that call. Sam doesn’t get to sleep until nearly three am.

In the morning, Sam wakes to wide green eyes and long, skinny fingers fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. Sam shoots up in surprise, sending the man stumbling back. Sam feels instantly bad. He doesn’t mean to hurt him. He is about to apologize out loud when he catches sight of the man’s face. Sam can never forget his brother’s eyes. Not ever.

“Dean…” The name is said hoarsely, he reaches out to grasp the man’s hand with his own trembling one.

Sam stares into his brother’s green gaze. There’s no mistaking it now.

Dean doesn’t seem to understand Sam, at least not on a level that Sam hopes. Dean is scared, he’s trembling, his whole body shivers every time Sam touches him. He flinches back when Sam tries to speak to him, to initiate some kind of conversation. 

Seeing Dean like this, lost in his own world, shatters Sam’s image of his brother little by little, until he’s sure there’s something hardly recognizable in his place. There’s a part of Sam that still refuses to believe this man is Dean, Sam’s Dean. The unbreakable wall, the anchor that Sam holds onto in a place where monsters and bad men exist. Dean is still out there somewhere, searching for Sam, for Dad, and Sam is sitting here with what has to be a shell of a man, a mere shadow.

Something that looks at Sam like he’s both a monster and something to be worshipped. Dean keeps trying to give Sam blowjobs. When Sam isn’t looking, he’s down on his knees, clinging desperately to his feet, licking at his shoes, begging without words, with green fearful eyes that are Dean’s yet at the same time aren’t. They can’t be. This person stole Dean’s eyes, his freckles, his lips and face, he’s grown his brother’s hair out and starved himself and he’s trying to buy Sam’s sympathy by existing as Dean’s more pathetic clone.

Sam aches. He doesn’t understand. He’s never taken care of anyone before. This man, Dean, whoever he is, Sam’s out of depth here.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam is sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up close to him. He stares at the wall. He tries not to notice Dean on the other side in his corner. Dean has been sitting there, still as a statue, for hours now. His expression is blank. It creeps Sam out almost as much as the insistent blowjobs, his brother’s lips mouthing along the crotch of his jeans. Sam shudders at the memory, tries to push it down but fails. 

He knows he should do something. He should get up, try to talk to Dean again, to comfort him, to…fix him, his brother. But if Sam makes the first move it means he accepted it. That the shell of a man sitting in the room with him is Dean. Sam can’t…accept that just yet. He wants to pretend that Dean is still out there. Dean will barge into the room any minute, guns blazing, green eyes amused, lips smirking, shooting a look to Sam and say, “So you’re keeping that for company these days, little bro? Should I be insulted or something?”

Sam laughs and sobs. Imaginary Dean winks back and fades and Sam is left with a dark motel room again. He chances a glance to the naked man and isn’t surprised to see he hasn’t reacted at all. He decides to take another chance, a bigger one. Sam takes in a sharp breath and lets it out before starting to crawl to the edge of the bed. “Dean,” he whispers. It feels weird saying his brother’s name out loud like this. Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, and for a moment, Sam is pained and scared.

He wishes he is stronger. If the situation had been reversed, Sam is sure without a doubt, Dean would have known what to do. He laughs to himself. But the situation isn’t. Sam isn’t the one huddled in the corner. It’s Dean.

Sam makes it to the edge. He lifts one leg over slowly, so not to scare Dean with any sudden movements. His brother finally blinks but that’s the most reaction Sam gets. Sam isn’t sure to be relieved or disappointed. He’s kind of both. He swallows and touches both feet to the floor. He stands up slowly. Dean still doesn’t react, like he doesn’t notice Sam is even in the room.

Sam feels his heart clench. He wants to reach out to his brother and pull him in a hug and never let him go. He drops to the floor and starts to crawl over to him. “What happened to you, Dean?” he wonders out loud. He doesn’t get a response, but Sam doesn’t expect to. When he’s within reach, Sam grabs a skinny wrist. “God, I can, I can see bone.”

Before he can stop himself, Sam is crying. He’s holding onto Dean’s arm like a lifeline, rocking back and forth. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know how to fix Dean. He’s not strong enough. God, what is Sam thinking? Suddenly, fingers that were once lax, grip his hand. Sam startles. He lets go and rocks back in shock. Dean is still not looking at him but his fingers flex as if he’s still squeezing something, Sam’s hand.

Sam shakes off his shock and crawls back to Dean. “Dean?” he tries again, hoping for some miracle. He takes hold of his brother’s face and looks him in the eyes, trying to see if Dean is seeing him.

Dean moves forward, taking Sam by surprise. Their foreheads collide. Sam thinks he sees stars. He opens his eyes in time to see Dean lean over and crush their lips together. It sends a shock through Sam. For a moment Sam thinks about closing his eyes and deepening the kiss, but the current situation rushes back, hitting Sam like a truck, and he jolts back. He shoves Dean off him. His brother isn’t in his right mind.

Dean looks at him dazedly. He furrows his brows like Sam has confused him by pulling away. This isn’t what Sam wants. This can’t be what Dean wants. “No, Dean,” Sam says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know if Dean will understand him, but Sam has to try because he’s clueless in everything else.

Dean seems to get it. He doesn’t try to kiss Sam anymore after that. But when Sam starts to stand, he catches his brother recoiling from him. His body tenses. Sam wonders what he looks like to Dean.

“A monster. I look like a monster to him,” Sam answers himself later when he’s standing alone in the bathroom in front of the mirror. Sam stares at himself. He looks tired. There are bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. 

Sam tried to sleep. But it’s hard when you have your brother on the motel bed and you have to sleep in a makeshift one on the floor. Not that Sam has the right to complain. Dean needs the bed more. But it’s still hard to get used to. 

Sam stares down at the scissors in his hand. He grips it tightly. If he’s going to try to fix his brother…he decides that the hair should at least go first. Dean hasn’t reacted to his hair but Sam is sure it’s bothered him. He’s seen Dean blink a few times when strands fall in his eyes but he hasn’t done anything to move it out of the way. Sam in fact had to do it for him a couple times by now.

Sam shoves the scissors into his pocket and goes out of the bathroom. He searches for Dean and finds him where he last left him, in the corner like a thrown away toy. Sam walks over to him cautiously. He doesn’t want Dean to run away from him or to put up some last minute effort fight while he’s trying to cut his hair. He has to be careful about this.

“Hey…Dean,” he says softly. 

Dean doesn’t respond.

Sam sighs and crouches down beside him. He doesn’t know what to say next. He reaches a hand to Dean’s shoulder. When Dean doesn’t flinch, Sam goes on, “I uh…I need to cut your hair. Don’t freak out, okay?”

Sam isn’t sure what to expect. Dean turns at the mention of ‘hair’. He bows his head to the floor. Sam blinks. He doesn’t know what to make of this. He reaches a trembling hand to touch his brother’s hair. Dean doesn’t flinch or recoil. He’s completely still, waiting.

It’s like the word is a trigger to offer himself over. Sam tries not to linger on the thought. He takes a breath and gets out the scissors and starts cutting. 

When he’s done with Dean’s haircut, there is no denying this is Dean. It is one hundred percent his brother. Sam lets the scissors drop to the floor with a clatter. Dean doesn’t move from his position. Sam aches to think what his brother could have gone through to become like this. 

He shudders and moves forward without thinking. Sam rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean doesn’t push him off. _Old Dean would have_ , Sam can’t help but think. Sam doesn’t move for another fifteen minutes. He thinks he might have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knows he’s blinking open tired eyes. His stomach growls.

Sam stands up and stifles a yawn. He looks down at his brother. “You hungry?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Sam wonders if he even can anymore.

Sam orders pizza. He has to prod Dean to eat. Dean peers down at the box as if he isn’t sure what it’s for. Sam watches his brother. Dean must be hungry. He hasn’t seen Dean eat breakfast this morning. “Here,” Sam says, taking a slice of cheese and putting it on an empty plate for him. He pushes it in front of Dean. “You used to like pizza, man.”

Dean looks up at Sam after a moment. He hasn’t made a move to pick up his slice yet. Sam’s heart lurches as a thought occurs. “You um pick it up, Dean, with your hand. Like this.” He lifts his own slice up and makes a show of biting into it. Sam chews and swallows, then waits.

Dean blinks and looks down and after a long moment of just looking at it, mimics Sam’s movements. He eats slow, tentative, his eyes light up as he savors the taste. But it’s only for a moment. When Sam blinks the look is gone and Dean is watching Sam carefully. Sam bites down again on his own pizza slice.


	3. Chapter 3

After they finish eating, Sam decides Dean needs a bath. There’s a few stray hairs that stick to Dean’s skin from the earlier haircut. Sam gets up to go the bathroom, thinking that some of Sam’s old hoodies and jeans might actually fit his brother. Sometimes being as big as he is comes in handy. Sam remembers feeling like a giant freak in high school. It sucked back then when he was only fourteen. But now he feels he may have lucked out. 

There’s no way Sam could go out and shop for clothes that would fit Dean. Not in the state that he is in now. Sam kneels down next to the tub and starts the bath. He makes sure the water is not too hot or cold. It takes a couple tries before Sam is satisfied. He puts the top on the drain and goes to get Dean.

Dean is still sitting at the table. He’s nibbling on the crust of his pizza. When Sam steps closer, he’s sure Dean notices his presence because for a moment, his brother tenses up, before relaxing again. It’s a blink and it’s gone moment. Sam walks slowly over to his brother and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dean freezes at the touch.

“Dean, I, uh, I got the bath started for you,” Sam says awkwardly. “Well, I mean, you can get in after you’re done. Go ahead. Finish your pizza. No rush, man.” It feels wrong to talk like this to Dean, like Dean is a child, like he doesn’t understand. As Dean continues to stay motionless, his shoulders tensing, Sam realizes with a deep ache, this is exactly what his brother has been reduced to.

Dean is broken, so broken, he had forgotten how to eat pizza until Sam showed him. “I can’t, I can’t…fix you,” Sam tells him because he knows Dean doesn’t understand. It feels easier talking about his feelings to someone who doesn’t get it, who won’t, can’t, judge. He sinks to his knees next to his brother and wraps him in his arms. He wishes Dad is here, or that Pastor Jim is still alive. Pastor Jim would know what to do. He could take care of Dean for Sam. Sam isn’t strong. He wishes he is. God, he does. But he isn’t. And this is all Dean has. Just…Sam. It’s pathetic. Dean deserves more. He deserves to be fixed. 

The saddest part is that Dean doesn’t even understand there’s anything wrong. He sits limp in Sam’s arms. He doesn’t get he’s broken.

It feels like a long time before Sam feels like moving again. But when he glances down at his watch, he realizes only two minutes passed. Dean finishes eating the crust in the time Sam takes to pull himself together. He stands up, pulling Dean with him. 

“Come on, Dean, please.” 

Dean goes along easily, like a marionette doll.

When they get into the bathroom, Dean freezes in front of the mirror. Sam frowns and turns around to see what stopped Dean. His brother is studying his own reflection in the mirror like this is the first time he’s seen his own face. He watches as Dean slowly reaches to press his hand gently on the surface. He traces his reflection’s face lightly, blinking every few seconds.

Sam stays still, hoping not to draw attention back to himself. He’s curious on what Dean will do. This is one of the very few times Dean actually moves without Sam’s explicit instructions. When Dean gets to the head, he pauses. Sam holds his breath as Dean frowns slightly. He withdraws his hand, then hesitantly, brings it up to touch his head.

Sam can almost see the gears in Dean’s brain turning. Dean knows there’s something missing, something wrong. _His hair_ , Sam thinks. _He’s feeling for his hair._

Sam can’t take it anymore. “I uh, remember, Dean…I cut your hair.”

Dean freezes like a deer caught on an oncoming car. Sam rushes, “But if you liked it long, you can just grow it back out. I…I cut it because it looked like it was getting in the way. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Sam looks down at his feet, suddenly ashamed. Of course he hadn’t thought that Dean might have actually liked his stupid long hair. All Sam noticed was that it was obviously bugging his brother and Dean wasn’t going to say or do anything about it. So Sam saw an opportunity to take matters into his own hands. It never, not once, occurred to Sam that Dean might miss his damn hair.

After all, Dean used to make fun of Sam’s hair all the time.

Of course, that was before…

Dean has obviously changed, including his sense of style by the way he keeps patting his head like it would make his hair grow back. “I get it, Dean. You miss it, your hair. I messed up. I’m sorry,” Sam tells him. “It’ll grow back. It will.” He reaches out and grabs Dean’s arm.

Dean instantly freezes up. His eyes are wide as he stares at Sam. He looks a moment away from panicking. The thought has Sam panicking and tightening his grip. “Hey, don’t, it’s okay,” Sam says. “Come on…just, just get in the bath…please, Dean?”

He drags Dean to the tub. He turns the water off once it’s half filled. Dean looks down at the water distrustfully. Sam releases his grip after a moment and bends down. He reaches into the water, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean watches Sam slowly drag his finger around in the water.

“See, Dean? It’s not bad,” Sam says softly. “The water’s really nice and warm.”

When Dean doesn’t move, Sam sighs. He decides to try another approach. “You have to take a bath, Dean. You smell…bad.”

Dean still doesn’t move. “You…you have to climb in, Dean,” Sam says. He gets up so that he’s towering over both Dean and the tub. Sam swings a leg over. He feels the rush of warm water against his right foot. It soaks through his jeans but Sam doesn’t mind. He looks to his brother. “Come on, Dean. Please?”

Dean hesitates.

Sam feels a rush of desperation go through him. He grabs hold of his brother’s shoulders, startling him. “Okay, okay…how about this…we’ll go in together then.”

He doesn’t wait for Dean to respond, knowing Dean won’t. Sam gets in the tub and waits. It’s uncomfortable. He has to draw up his knees to leave room for Dean. 

For a moment Sam doesn’t think Dean will get in. But he does.

The bath is awkward. Dean is completely motionless as Sam shampoos his hair and soaps him. A few times, Sam has to warn Dean to close his eyes and when Dean doesn’t, Sam has to for him. It feels weird having to take care of his brother like this. Sam is reminded of all the times he and Dean took baths together. It used to be the other way around.

Sam remembers crying when he accidentally got soap in his eyes and Dean shushing him and telling him to keep trying to get the soap out with the towel. God how Sam misses his big brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Sam gets Dean cleaned up, they both get out of the tub and Sam pulls the plug out. He watches for a moment as the dirty water swirls down the drain. Then he grabs a clean towel for Dean. Dean doesn’t take the towel, instead he stands naked shivering from the cold air in the bathroom. Sam dries him off quickly. He’s tired and cold but Dean won’t do anything for himself. 

Sam pauses to press his head into Dean’s shoulder. Dean smells like the motel shampoo and soap now. “I miss you, big bro,” Sam says softly. He can feel when Dean takes in a breath and releases it, the way his shoulders move up and down slightly.

Dean says nothing back but Sam is getting used to the silence between them.

He pulls himself off him and finishes toweling his hair. Dean looks slightly better clean. There are still some bruises that stand out even more now against pale skin. Sam takes Dean’s arm and drags him out of the bathroom. Dean goes along without a hint of protest.

He sits Dean on the motel bed. “Stay here,” Sam says. “I’m just going to get some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Dean obeys and turns to rifle through the duffle bag. He pulls out a couple of his clean hoodies and tee shirts and a pair of boxers. Sam looks back over his shoulder to see Dean watching him. He smiles and holds up the clothes in his hands for Dean to see.

“You need to wear these, Dean. You’re going to be cold if you’re naked all the time,” Sam explains as he stands up and goes over to him. “And if…when you go out in public, it’s going to look really weird if you don’t have clothes on.” Sam swallows at the thought of taking Dean out in public.

Dean looks at the clothes with that familiar blank expression and Sam, in desperation, reaches out to touch his brother. He grabs hold of Dean’s shoulder causing him to flinch. Sam wants to take his hand back at the reaction. He doesn’t want to scare his brother. But he also doesn’t want Dean to go around naked all the time. He knows it’s just the two of them in this motel room but having Dean naked only reminds Sam of his situation and the mental state of Dean’s mind.

“Dean, Dean, don’t be scared, please,” he says in a pleading voice. “Clothes are good. It, look, I’m wearing some too.” He gestures vaguely to his soaked through jeans and tee shirt with his empty hand.

“Here, come on,” he takes the white tee shirt from the pile and holds it up for Dean to see. “I’ll help you. Just…hold up your arms.”

Dean does and Sam slips it on him easily. He tries for a small smile. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

The boxers are harder to get on. Sam taps Dean’s leg and says, “Okay, next are the boxers. I just need to slip these…”

It’s like with the hair, there’s a trigger somewhere and Sam hit it because suddenly Dean turns over so he’s laying on his stomach with his ass in the air. Sam jumps back, freaked out, because that isn’t what he’s trying to get his brother to do. 

“I, I don’t…that’s not what I want, Dean,” he sputters. He’s holding onto the boxers in a death grip.

“Dean, no,” Sam says knowing that Dean at least understands that one word.

“I just…I just want to get the boxers on,” he tries to explain. Sam isn’t sure what he said or did to make Dean offer himself like this. He walks slowly back to the bed and places a shaky hand on Dean’s back. “I don’t want this,” he tells Dean again and gently tries to lift Dean back to a sitting position.

Dean’s brows are furrowed in confusion for a moment as he tries to puzzle what happened in his head. Sam blinks and Dean’s face is smoothed back to the familiar blank expression Sam is starting to realize is his brother’s normal one. He feels his stomach lurch. Sam wants to be sick. He quickly rushes to the bathroom to throw up the small amount of pizza he had.

When he returns, Sam gets the boxers on quickly. He falls back on the bed in exhaustion. Sleep quickly overtakes Sam.

When Sam opens his eyes, it’s to darkness. He sits up slowly and glances down at his watch. A couple hours passed. The time reads just a little past midnight. Dean is asleep beside him, his head on Sam’s lap, the rest of his body curled up. Dean looks almost…normal like this. His face is smoothed out to a more peaceful look. He’s not bunched up with tension. He’s just…relaxed, Sam realizes.

Sam lets his own body relax as well, now that he knows his brother is sleeping and safe. He’s hit by another wave of exhaustion and sinks back in the bed. Sam closes his eyes.

The next morning Sam wakes to the sun shining through the window. He groans and rolls over. That’s when he feels something warm on his skin, slipping under his pants and underwear to touch hesitantly on the head of his cock. It pulls at his cock at first as if testing. When Sam unconsciously arcs into it, it starts to gently stroke. It feels good, _so_ good, and Sam, still half asleep, can’t help but let out a low moan. The stroking picks up speed, pushing Sam closer and closer to orgasm.

He cums in his pants a moment later with a shout and shoots awake. Dean’s unblinking green eyes stare back at him. Sam scrambles backwards until he’s way out of reach. Dean’s hand is still outstretched, sticky with Sam’s cum. Sam looks away quickly and zips up his jeans. His heart is racing. Sam feels like he’s going to be sick again. He doesn’t say anything as he gets off the bed and stumbles past Dean to the bathroom.

Sam heaves into the toilet and flushes it. He goes to the sink to wash his hands. In the mirror, Sam looks worse than yesterday. There are bigger, more noticeable bags under his eyes. He feels tired still even though he slept at least a couple hours. He looks to Dean still standing by the side of the bed. His brother is staring down at his hand like he doesn’t know what to do with it. Even from here Sam can see it, white and sticky and smearing on his skin. It looks gross, probably feels gross and Dean isn’t trying to wipe it off.

Sam washes his hands and towels off before going back to Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

It hits Sam full frontal as he wordlessly cleans Dean’s hand with a couple tissues he found in a box by the nightstand. It’s the realization that just by dressing Dean up in clothes and pretending everything is alright is not going to make the situation, this situation, get any better. Dean has wounds that run deep. It doesn’t show up visible on his skin like the bruises and marks. It’s in his head, ingrained in his memories, full of invisible landmines that Sam has trouble navigating through.

That realization is quickly followed with another. Dean isn’t going to get any better if Sam doesn’t even bother to try and help Dean. His brother is locked up in his own head and Sam is the one holding the key. Or at least it feels that way. Sam takes a shuddering breath and rests his forehead on Dean’s.

“I’m, I’m gonna try, Dean. I know I should’ve tried to help you from the start and I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’m gonna try now, big brother,” Sam says softly. He knows Dean would have done the same for him. Without a doubt.

It isn’t easy.

Dean still doesn’t move on his own most of the time. When Sam sets out breakfast, Dean is motionless in his seat, staring blankly at the waffles and eggs. It’s like Dean doesn’t understand the concept of food anymore. He watches Sam pick up his fork and knife and slice into the egg. The yolk oozes out.

“Pick up the fork, Dean,” Sam insists after a moment and watches as Dean hesitates for a second before doing as he’s told. He looks back to Sam for his next set of instructions and Sam heaves a sigh. “Use it to eat the egg. Like this.” He shows Dean and waits for his brother to copy him.

Dean does and eats his eggs finally. He doesn’t say anything but Sam doesn’t expect him to. He’s beginning to get used to having a mute Dean around and that thought there just feels wrong. They finish breakfast half an hour later.

Getting Dean to the bathroom next is easy enough. Dean follows along as Sam drags him inside. He sets out the toothbrushes and puts toothpaste on both of them. He hands one to Dean before showing him how to brush his teeth. It doesn’t take as long as Sam thought it would to get Dean to brush his teeth. They make it through without incident. Sam is only thankful for small mercies.

It doesn’t last long however.

By the time lunch rolls around, there’s a sharp knock on the door. “Winchester? You there? Isn’t it time to get going?”

It’s the motel manager. Sam curses under his breath. He forgot he only planned to stay for two nights. He looks to see Dean staring back at him from the bed. Sam goes to the door and opens it a crack, blocking Dean from the man’s sight.

“Look, there’s been a last minute change of plans, sir,” Sam says as he fishes out his wallet from his back pocket. He hands him a wad of bills. “That should cover for…at least a couple more nights, right?”

The manager counts the bills and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

When he leaves, satisfied with Sam’s payment, Sam closes the door and slumps down. That was the last of Sam’s cash. It’s obvious that Sam can’t keep Dean in here forever, no matter how much he wants to. Eventually…eventually, Sam is going to have to take Dean out in public.

He looks at his brother. Dean isn’t ready for that step. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.

Sam knows he told Dean he’s going to try now. But it’s hard and sometimes Sam wants to just shut himself in the bathroom and cry. Every time he looks at Dean he can’t help but compare this Dean to the Dean from…before. 

The day passes by slowly. Sam is out of cash and has to resort to one of his stolen credit cards to order pizza again. He turns on the TV for Dean and they watch Dr. Sexy MD together.

He falls asleep a quarter to eight and wakes up an hour later to the smell of piss next to him.

Sam jolts up. Dean is curled on the floor next to him and there’s a small yellow stain on the floor by his feet. Sam looks to Dean’s boxers and notices that it’s soaked. His brother pissed himself in his sleep. A sense of despair curls in Sam as he shakes Dean awake. 

Why didn’t Dean just go to the bathroom? 

“Dean, Dean, hey, wake up, man,” Sam leans over and whispers into Dean’s ear. “Come on, you kinda pissed yourself in your sleep. I need to get you cleaned up, Dean.”

Dean groggily opens his eyes and lets Sam lift him up to his feet. They go to the bathroom and Sam tells Dean to take off his boxers. As Dean does so, Sam turns around and starts up the bath. He lets it fill half way before turning the water off. He then helps Dean out of his shirt and waits for Dean to get in. Dean looks at him expectantly.

Sam sighs knowing his brother wants him to get in the bath with him again. He looks down at his clothes. They’re dirty and old from the past couple days. But it’d be wrong to get in the bath with Dean naked. He shakes his head and kneels beside the bath. “I can’t this time, Dean,” he tells Dean. “Now get in.”

Dean gets in, reacting instantly to the order.

Sam shampoos Dean’s hair and soaps him down. When he gets to Dean’s cock, he pauses, and hands Dean the soap bar. “Just, just move the soap over it,” Sam says. “Like how I did earlier with your arms.”

“Come on, Dean,” Sam tries when Dean just stares at the soap in his hands. “Here…let me show you.” He takes hold of Dean’s hand and guides it down. Sam hesitates for a moment before soaping Dean’s cock.

Dean lets out a small gasp. It’s one of the few sounds Sam has heard his brother make. Sam tries to ignore what he’s doing to his brother. Then Dean makes a low whining sound as Sam travels further down. Sam hadn’t been too thorough last bath but this time Dean pissed himself. 

He hesitates when he reaches Dean’s ass. He soaps over it quickly and goes down to Dean’s feet. “Lift up,” Sam tells him, tapping on his right leg.

Dean does and Sam soaps it before going to the left.

Once Sam has Dean washed, Dean climbs out and Sam dries him off. He goes to the duffle and fishes out clean underwear and a tee shirt for him to wear. “Here,” Sam says, “lift your arms up.”

Dean lifts his arms up and Sam quickly puts the shirt on him. He then wrestles the underwear on. “They’re not like the boxers but they’re at least clean.”

Sam sighs as he sits next to his brother on the edge of the bed. His shoulders feel heavy, like the weight of the world is on them. Dean’s world at least.

Sam wants to believe he’s made a tiny bit of progress today. But even with his promise of finally trying, it just feels like one huge step backwards.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean starts having nightmares.

He tosses and turns all night, waking Sam with his restlessness. Sam flicks the light on and squints up to see Dean half under the covers. One leg is visible and it kicks out like Dean is fighting something. Sam wastes no time to go over and shake his brother awake. Dean swings his arm out and hits him square in the chest. It doesn’t hurt but it takes Sam by surprise and he stumbles back, the breath knocked out of him.

He’s more careful when he gets back to Dean. He dodges the flailing limbs with ease and gently shakes Dean’s shoulders. “Dean, hey, it’s time to wake up now. Come on, man.”

Sam continues to shake him until Dean blinks awake. He smiles gently down at his brother. “It’s okay, Dean. It was just a dream. It’s over now.” Sam pulls Dean into a hug. Dean shivers in his hold. He strokes through his brother’s hair. It’s wet with sweat. Sam whispers into Dean’s ear, “Everything’s going to be okay, Dean. You’re not there anymore. Everything’s going to be alright.”

For a few minutes, they stay like this. Dean lets Sam rock them both back and forth, sliding his hand gently through his hair. His breathing finally evens back out and his eyes droop. Sam doesn’t stop until Dean is fully sleeping again, then he gently places Dean’s head back on the pillow and slides the blanket back up to cover his brother’s body. Dean curls up under the blanket.

Sam sighs, feeling relieved. He watches his brother sleep for a moment longer before turning the light back off and stumbling back to his own pillow and blanket on the floor. As soon as Sam lays down, he closes his eyes and sleeps. Sam dreams of demons and smoke and his brother’s bright green eyes and smirking lips.

The next couple days don’t get any easier.

Dean is still unresponsive when Sam tries to dress him and bathe him and get him to eat on his own. He thinks it’ll be a long time before Dean can do anything by himself. But Sam is going to keep trying, because he told Dean he would. He can’t give up on his brother when it’s barely been a week. Sam knows progress comes over time, not hours, maybe not even days. It might take weeks, months, maybe even years. 

Sam pays for another week using one of the stolen credit cards. He feels a little bad but the thought of taking Dean out to the outside world as vulnerable as he is sickens Sam more.

“Eventually, Dean, I’ll take you outside,” Sam says when he catches his brother looking at him curiously as he closes the door behind him. “But not right now. You’re not ready.” He doesn’t add ‘You’ll probably never be ready’ though it’s on the tip of his tongue. He’ll feel awful later on for even thinking that but right now it feels close to the truth.

Sam knows he can’t keep Dean hidden in the motel room forever. Eventually the credit cards won’t be enough. The manager is already giving him odd glances. He’s sure by next week, they’ll be kicked out regardless of whatever Sam says or pays with.

But for now he doesn’t care. A week feels like a long time.

Sam has never realized how much he’s taken for granted until now. Little things like bathing by himself, brushing his teeth, getting dressed, eating, even pissing. Being forced into the position as his brother’s caretaker helped open Sam’s eyes. A part of him is so gratefully relieved that he isn’t Dean right now that Sam feels god awful for thinking like this. 

But even the shame that he feels right now can’t cover the hideous truth.

On Dean’s third bath, things start to roll downhill. As Sam soaps Dean down, piss starts to dribble from his cock. Sam jumps back, the bar of soap drops to the floor. Dean empties out in the tub. Sam has to drain the water and Dean ends up taking another bath that night.

After Dean’s bath, Sam quickly takes his own shower. He shampoos, soaps and rinses. When he’s done, he climbs out of the tub and wraps a towel loosely around his waist.

He walks out of the bathroom and sees Dean on the bed. He’s laying on his stomach eyeing his brother curiously. Sam walks over to the duffle and picks out a clean hoodie and jeans. He leaves the boxers for Dean because for some reason his brother refuses to wear pants and Sam wants Dean to have something on. There’s a large pile of dirty clothes next to the bag and Sam decides today will have to be laundry day.

Sam changes quickly, ignoring the feeling of his brother watching him. Then he grabs a handful of the pile and turns around. “I have to wash these,” he explains to Dean. “They’re dirty. I’ll just be in the bathroom if you need me, Dean.” He heads to the bathroom.

Sam washes the clothes in the bathtub and leaves them by the sink to dry. He comes back out thirty minutes later to see that Dean hasn’t moved an inch from the bed. Sam wonders how long it took for his brother to be trained to hold position like that. Even with John’s marine training instilled in both his sons, Dean had never been one to sit still before.

But looking at Dean now, he doesn’t look the slightest bit bothered. It scares Sam and makes his heart ache.

Sam orders room service that night and they watch an old rerun of Godzilla playing on TV.

Dean has another nightmare later and Sam has to shake him awake again. He rocks his brother back and forth gently while humming the part of ‘Hey, Jude’ that he remembers from when Dean would hum to Sam when he was still a little kid that was afraid of monsters under his bed.

Sam purposely doesn’t think about the role reversal as Dean closes his eyes again, his breathing evening out and his body going lax in Sam’s tight grip.

“We’re going to be fine, Dean,” Sam whispers to Dean who he knows can’t hear him right now. He doesn’t really believe what he’s saying but Sam is trying.

The days drag by slowly and painfully. Dean doesn’t seem like he’s really progressing and whenever Sam sees his brother’s soaked boxers and looks up to catch Dean’s blank face, like he doesn’t even notice anything is wrong, doesn’t feel the piss clinging the fabric to his skin, Sam wants to break down and cry. It’s like they’re taking tiny steps forward and taking huge leaps back.

Sam has tried multiple times to explain to Dean whenever he feels the pressure to piss or poop, he either gets Sam’s attention that he needs to use the bathroom or go there by himself to take care of his business. Dean does neither. Instead he sits at the table with soaked through boxers or underwear until Sam notices the stench.

When Sam wakes up the next day with Dean peering down at him, his naked thighs straddling Sam’s hips, hard cock exposed and cold and dribbling with cum, Sam thinks, ‘ _I lied, Dean. We’re not going to be fine_.’

The thought feels like a betrayal and also a truth. Because Sam really has no idea how to fix Dean. He wishes he had some kind of instructions; that Dean came with a manual. Sam is lost and terrified and wants to give up. He wants to pass Dean off to someone else, let Dean be someone else’s problem, because he’s too much for Sam. Sam tried, god he tried. And he failed. He failed Dean twice now.

Sam couldn’t find Dean before his brother got broken and now that Dean has found Sam, he can’t put his brother back together.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, looking up into his brother’s vacant eyes. Sam feels like a little kid who disappointed his big brother. He is a kid that disappointed his brother but it’s not because he’s come home late, or got in a fight or got suspended from school. The failure’s bigger than that, more relevant.

Dean leans down and gently places a kiss on Sam’s cheek. Sam knows this is wrong but he’s too tired to fight Dean on this. The only times Dean ever seems to respond is if they’re sex related. Sam tried to get Dean to respond to other things but it hasn’t worked out and Sam thinks maybe it never will. Dean has been changed, maybe irrevocably.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he says again and pushes Dean off him to reverse their positions. Dean goes easily. Sam starts to pepper his brother’s skin with kisses, hoping to convey just how goddamn sorry he really is. “I thought, I thought I could fix you, make you better…make you normal again. God, I’m the lousiest brother in the world, aren’t I?” Sam pulls back to look at Dean.

Hesitantly, Dean reaches out and pulls Sam down so their foreheads touch each other. Sam is taken by surprise. Then Dean kisses him lightly on the cheek and whispers so softly into his ear that Sam is sure he imagined it, “Suh...Sam-my.”

Dean says his name again. And again. Sam knows he isn’t imagining it this time. But Dean only says it when Sam is kissing him, holding him in arms, when they make physical skin-to-skin contact. Dean doesn’t really get better in the days in the motel room. Just as Sam earlier feared, the manager eventually evicts them and Sam and Dean have to make due in the Impala for a couple days while Sam hustles pool in the daytime.

They lease an apartment in another town once Sam makes enough cash.

Sam still has to take care of Dean, making sure he eats and uses the bathroom, cleaning him when he pisses his pants and giving him baths. It takes time to adjust to but Sam wants to think that somewhere in that shell of a man, Dean is still in there, and that he’ll come out when he’s ready. Until then Sam has resigned himself to taking care of Dean’s body for him.

Sam is always scared to leave Dean alone in the room while he works the pool table, but so far there hasn’t been any incident. There are two beds in the apartment because Sam gets tired of having back pains waking up on the floor. One night, however, a month into their new living arrangements, Dean somehow manages to crawl into Sam’s bed. Sam wakes up in a tangle of limbs and sweat.

Dean clings to Sam like he’s a teddy bear. Sam looks down at his brother’s peaceful face and smiles. Maybe Dean is still a far cry from being okay, maybe he won’t ever be the same, but Sam likes to believe that this is finally a step in the right direction. He leans down and kisses his brother’s forehead.

Dean’s brows furrow and his grip on Sam’s arm tightens marginally. Sam ignores the pain and kisses Dean again. His brother mumbles, “Sammy.”

For now, Sam will take anything he can get, including that one little, precious word.

 

 

 **The End**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end I decided against putting actual sexual content in this. With the way the story was going, it felt kind of wrong to do so. Yes this started out as a response to a kink prompt but I already had an ending in mind and I felt like sex would kind of take away from the story. There are overtones of that though throughout the story and there are kissing and touching and I hope you enjoyed it regardless. This is by far the longest fill to a prompt I’ve written but it was fun and made me have to think hard on what to write.


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